The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1887-06-16
TALMAGE'S SERMON,
A Discourse Upon Things Done
Under the Mantle Of Night.
The Dark Deeds that Are Continually He.
ing Enacted in the Third Watch In
the Great Cities-Darkness and
Crime Hand In Hand.

Crime Hand in Hand.
On recent Sabbath Rev. 4. Dewitt
Talmage took his audience at Brooklyn
Tabernacle on . hasty trip behind the
night scenes in the great cities. picturing
the crimes and poverty existing and the
many dangers and pitfalls to he Stunned.
His text was:
Watchman, what of the night Isaiah xxi. II.
When night came down on Baby lon,
Ninevah and Jerusalem, they needed care.
full watching, otherwise the incendiary's
torch might have been thrust into the
very heart Of the metropolitan splendor;
or enemies, marching from the hills, might
have forced the gates. All night long, on
top OF the wall and In front Of the gates
might be heard the measured step Of the
Waterman on his solitary beat; silence
hung in the air, save as some passer-by
raised the question: "Watchman, what
Of the night"
1t is to me Q deeply suggestive and sol
emn thing to see man standing guard by
night. It thrilled through me, as at the
gate Of an arsenal at Charleston, the ques-
tion once smote me: ''Who comes therea"
followed by the sharp command: '.Ad-
vance and give the countersign." Every
moral teacher stands on picket, or patrols
the walls as Waterman. HIS work is to
sound the alarm; and whether it be in the
first watch, In the second watch, in the
third watch, or in the fourth watch, to be
vigilant until the daybreak filings its
morning glories'' Of blooming cloud
across the arching trellis of the sky.
The ancients divided their night into
four parasitic first watch, from six to
nine; the second, from nine to twelve; the
third, from twelve to three; and the
fourth, from three to six.
Ispeak now Of the city in the third
watch, or from twelve to three O'Clock
never weary Of looking upon the life
and brilliancy of the city in the first
watch. That is the hour when the stores
are closing The laboring men, having
quilted the scaffolding and the shop, are
on their way home. It rejoices me to give
them my seat in the city car. They have
stood and hammered away all day. Their
feet are weary. They are exhausted
with the tug Of work. They are most
cheerful. With appetites sharpened on
the swift turner's wheel and the carpen-
ter's milestone, they seek the evening
meal The clerks, too, have broken saway
from the counter, and with brain weary
OF the long line Of figures and the whims
OF those who go a-shopping, seek the face
of mother or wife and child. The mer-
chants are embarrassing themselves
from their anxieties on their way up the
street. The boys that lock up are heav-
ing away at the shutters, showing the
heavy bolts and taking last look at the
lire to see that all is safe. The streets
are thronged with young men, setting
out from the great centers Of bargain
making.
Lot idlers clear the street, and give
right Of way to the besweated artisans
and merchantsl They have earned their
bread and are now on their way home to
get 1t.
The lights in full jet hang over 10000
evening repasts-the parents at either
end OF the table, the children between.
Thank God, sswho setteth the solitary in
families.n
A few hours later, and all the places of
amusement, good and bad, are in full tide.
Lovers Of art, catalogue in hand, stroll
through galleries and discuss the pict-
ures. The ballroom is respondent with
the rich apparel OF those who, on either
side Of the white, glistening boards,
await the signal from the orchestra. The
footlights Of the theater fash up; the bell
rings, and the curtain rises; and out from
the gorgeous scenery glide the actors,
greeted with the vociferation of the
expectant multitudes. Concert halls
are lifted into ench antment with
the MARBLE Of one songstress, or swept
out on sea Of tumultuous feeling by the
blast Of brazen instruments. Drawing
rooms are filled with all gracefulness Of
apparel, with all sweetness of sound, with
all splendor Of manner; mirrors are
catching up and multiplying the scene,
until it seems az il in infinite corridors
there were garlanded groups advancing
and retreating.
The outdoor air rings with laughter,
and with the moving to and fro Of thou
sands on the great promenades. The
dashing span sdrip with the foam of the
long country ride, rushes past as you halt
at the curbstone.
Mirth, revelry, beauty fashion, magnif-
tcence mingle In the great metropolitan
picture until the thinking man goes pome
to think more seriously, and the praying
man to pray more earnestly.
A beautiful and overwhelming thing is
the city in the first and second watches of
the night
But the clock strikes twelve and the
third wetch has begun.
The thunder Of the city has rolled out
OF the air. The slightest sounds cut the
night with such distinctness as to attract
your attention. The tinkling Of the bell
OF, the street car in the distance, and the
having Of the dog. The stamp of horse
In the next street; the slamming Of q sa-
loon door; the hiccough Of the drunkard ;
the shrek Of the steam whistle five miles
away. Q, how suggestive, my friends,
the third watch OF the night
There are honest men passing up and
down the street. Here 10 a city mission.
airy who has been carrying . scuttle Of
coal to that poor family in that dark
place. Here is an undertaken going up
the steps Of q building from which comes
bitter cry which indicates that the
destroying angel has smitten the first
born. Here is a minister Of religion who
has been giving the sacrament to dying
Christian. Here is physician passing
along in great haste, the messenger few
steps ahead hurrying on to the household
Nearly all the lights have gone out IN the
dwellings, for it is the third watch Of the
night. That light in the window is the
light Of the watcher, for the medicines
must be administered, and the fever must
be watched, and the. restless tossing of
OF the covelid must be resisted, and the
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